


The Meaning of a Date

by NomadicSurvivor



Series: Michael Guerin Week Series [3]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Bit of Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Michael Guerin Week 2019, POV Michael, Roswell, guerinweek19, mgweek19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 14:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20695262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NomadicSurvivor/pseuds/NomadicSurvivor
Summary: I never got the hype of a birthday – what is a date anyway?  It’s a man-made concept of time placed into a man-made structure of months, weeks, days, years.  The construct is to help humans notate the passing of important moments.





	The Meaning of a Date

**Author's Note:**

> I find it hard to not go to the negative, just where my headspace is these days. So this was hard to start, but then became easier as I got going. I hope you like it. Comments welcome.

I never got the hype of a birthday – what is a date anyway? It’s a man-made concept of time placed into a man-made structure of months, weeks, days, years. The construct is to help humans notate the passing of important moments. The day we were found on the side of the road was named as our “birthdate”. Not that it held much meaning to me. Even after I returned to Roswell and was reunited with Max and Isobel, our birthday didn’t really hold any special meaning to me. The three of us would do something together on that day, acknowledge it, but all three of us knew it wasn’t something significant the way it was to other kids, to human kids. And while the Evans would throw Max and Izzy a party, no one really ever acknowledged mine – I never got a party or a card or anything. It wasn’t even until I got back to Roswell that I found out that I was missing out on something.

But my 18th birthday, that changed. Alex had packed a picnic and got me to drive him way out into the desert. It had been a couple months since that day – the tool shed, his dad, Rosa… We had seen very little of each other since then. He had seen me protecting a broken hand at school as we entered finals season. I had seen him protecting his ribs – I could only imagine what colors were under his clothing. We avoided each other for the most part, but would occasionally run into each other at classroom doors, in the hallways, going in or out of Crashdown. So imagine my surprise when, those couple months later, he somehow found where my truck was parked behind the grocery store and dropped a backpack and basket in the back of the truck, climbed into the passenger side, and told me to drive – no hello, nothing – just invited himself into my truck and said “drive.” Which of course I did.

I took up into the back part of the Foster Ranch, occasionally brave enough to glance over at him to watch him look out the passenger window, a small grin on his face as he felt the wind through his hair from the open window. I’d always keep looking at him when he’d glance back, catching his eyes for that split second before I’d force myself to slowly, casually, look back to the space in front of the truck. His make-up was gone, as were the piercings. But he was still exactly how I remembered seeing him over the years, and especially those times recently as we grew closer. I felt a calm come over me when I was with him – something I can’t say I felt too often growing up around humans.

I drove us to where the rocky outcrops come up out of the ground, and stopped the truck in a small patch of shade. As the engine ticked down as it cooled, we both just sat in silence for a couple minutes.

“How have you been? How is your hand?”

“It is what it is I guess.”

He glanced at it, a deep crease of concern across his forehead before looking back out the window.

“Did you go to the doctor? It doesn’t look good.”

I scoffed. “Alex, I am a runaway from CPS. Aside from not having insurance or money, I can’t exactly walk into a hospital and not get reported.”

He looked hurt by that, although I don’t know if it was the slightly patronizing tone I took, or the grim reality of my life and what that meant to something like my hand.

“Where have you been staying? I know you haven’t been back to the tool shed, not that I can blame you. I don’t honestly know what would happ…….”

I took a deep breath. “I’ve been staying around. Crashed a couple nights with Max, otherwise wherever I can park my truck and not be bothered. Out here quite a bit actually. It’s warm at night now that it’s summer.”

He nodded.

“But you’re free now, right?”

I looked over at him confused, “What?”

He smirked and instead of answering, opened the door and climbed out of the truck. He grabbed his stuff from the back of the truck and headed towards the rocks, farther into the shade. I opened my door but didn’t get out of my truck, waiting to see what he was up to.

Alex pulled a blanket out of his backpack and spread it out on the ground, then set the basket down, opened it up and pulled out a bag with the Crashdown logo on it. He then reached back in and pulled out two milkshakes that looked more melted shake than frozen. Then out came a bag of doritos, followed by a bag of peanut butter M&Ms. I chuckled and climbed out, sitting down next to him, looking at him questioningly.

Alex looked a bit embarrassed and chuckled, “OK I had to improvise, and had whatever the 7-11 had to select from with a limited budget.”

I laughed, “Alex, I will NOT be complaining about your food selection.” I didn’t want to admit that I hadn’t really had much more to eat than a snickers in the last day or so. “I guess I’m more confused as to what all this is actually about. But again, not complaining!”

Alex pulled cheeseburgers and fries from the Crashdown bag. He pushed one of the burgers towards me.

“When you ran away from home, how long did you have til you turned 18?”

I wasn’t sure where that question was going, and didn’t want to correct him as I so automatically did with Max and Izzy when they’d call a foster placement my home, or say my dad when I’d cut them off with ‘foster father’ or something. Instead, I answered without even thinking about it.

“One year, seven months, sixteen days. Why?”

Alex’s eyes got big as he quickly did math and realised how long I had been living in my truck before he found me behind the bleachers at school that fateful day.

“Wait, you’ve lived out of your truck for over a year and a half?!”

I shrugged, not sure what to say to that. He seemed to collect himself quickly, like he was determined to get himself back on whatever track he had been on before my answer threw him off.

“So now you’re free, right?” He asked this as he pulled a small, thin candle out of the front of the backpack and pushed it into the hamburger bun sitting in front of me. He then pulled out a lighter and lit the candle.

“Happy 18th Michael. Make a wish.”

I immediately felt that sting in my eyes and tickle in my nose, but pushed it down, refusing to even let a tear start to form in the corner of an eye. Leave it to Alex Manes to know what this day was to me. It was the first birthday to me that held any significance to me, yet like all the others, went ignored by the rest of the world. Max and Isobel had wished me a happy birthday that morning, but they didn’t say anything about what this day meant to my life. Age eighteen. No longer a ward of the state. CPS no longer had to keep tabs on me, wouldn’t put me in another shit placement where I could be abused, neglected, anything. Completely on my own. Alone.

Leave it to Alex to instead see it as my liberation, my independence day.

I watched the flame for a moment.

“I think, sitting here, I already got my wish. I am getting a meal, and I have you. What else could I ask for?”

Alex blushed and looked down. “Guerin, you’re not supposed to say what your wish is out loud. Now blow the candle out before it ruins your bun and you can’t eat around the wax.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d eat the wax and all if it meant food. I just blew it out. He then reached for a fry and threw it at me. I tried to catch it in my mouth but it bounced off my nose and landed in the sand next to the blanket. I grabbed it, blew the sand off, and tossed it into my mouth.

“Michael that still had sand on it!”

“Hey, waste not, want not.”

He shook his head and passed me a melted milkshake. I paced myself as I ate the burger and fries, trying to play it cool and not give away how hungry I was. In that year and a half, and long before to be honest, I had learned to pace eating. Make it look like you’re not hungry, that it doesn’t matter. It kept adults from looking at you with pity, or with anger. It kept Max and Iz from looking at me like a charity case. But I could see in Alex’s eyes – he saw through it all. He knew. It’s probably why he got all the other snacks.

We ate in silence, both afraid to say something to mess the moment up. Once the slurping sound of straws sucking empty milkshake cups filled the space, we both laughed and stood up. Alex slowly approached me, looking hesitantly at me before raising his arms to take me into an embrace. I returned the gesture quickly, pulling him for a hug, taking comfort in the feeling of him around me again, the smell of his hair, his body wash. I didn’t want to think about what he was smelling from me. But he didn’t seem to care.

Alex looked into my eyes and went in for a kiss, gentle and a bit tentative. The last time we did this, it did not end well for either of us. But we were in my desert, not his tool shed, and his dad was nowhere to be found, so I pushed into his mouth, deepening the kiss. We stumbled back and fell onto the blanket, laughing as we pushed the empty food wrappers out of the way. Hands fumbling, groping, running up and down bodies. Mouths on each other, on necks. Hands in hair, grabbing the back of necks. After a few frantic minutes of us reuniting with the electric emotions of two who had been apart too long, we settled into a more caring pace, frantic touches becoming more caressing, more reverent with each other.

Eventually we pulled apart, both panting, trying to catch our breaths.

Alex looked around, “It’s starting to get dark. We should move to the back of your truck and off the ground.”

I nodded, “Yeah, I don’t think I need to have any scorpions or other critters join us.”

I grabbed the blanket while Alex grabbed the backpack and basket, putting the rest of the snacks back inside. He tossed them into the cab of the truck while I spread my sleeping bag and blanket out, adding his to the back of the truck. He came around to the tail gate where I was sitting, my legs swinging back and forth off the back end. He stilled the movement of my legs and slid between them, leaning forward to capture me in another kiss.

I broke the kiss and started to slide back into the truck, laying down on the blankets, Alex climbing into the truck and following. Lazy kisses turned into a passionate make out session. At some point, shirts came off, as did jeans. In the growing darkness, we jerked each other off, coming together and locking together in a tight embrace. After several minutes of catching our breaths and slowing our heart rates, we cleaned up and put our jeans back on, leaned back against the cab of the truck, Alex leaning against my chest. We sat there for who knows how long, fingers touching each other across our chests, up and down his back or my arms. The stars came out in full force, and soon the glow of the cloud that makes up the Milky Way stood out above us. Who knows how long we sat there.

Maybe some dates mean something more than others. Up to today, they limited my options, kept me at the mercy of whatever control CPS put around my life. But today, this day?  
Alex looked up at me before tucking his head back under my chin, leaning against my chest.

“Happy 18th Michael.”


End file.
